In those west-country parishes where but a few years back the feast of Christmas Eve was usually prolonged with cake and cider, “crowding,” and “geese dancing,” till the ancient carols ushered1 in the day, a certain languor2 not seldom pervaded3 the services of the Church a few hours later. Red eyes and heavy, young limbs hardly rested from the Dashing White Sergeant4 and Sir Roger, throats husky from a plurality of causes—all these were recognised as proper to the season, and, in fact, of a piece with the holly5 on the communion rails.
On a dark and stormy Christmas morning as far back as the first decade of the century, this languor was neither more nor less apparent than usual inside the small parish church of Ruan Lanihale, although Christmas fell that year on a Sunday, and dancing should, by rights, have ceased at midnight. The building stands high above a bleak6 peninsula on the South Coast, and the congregation had struggled up with heads slanted7 sou’-west against the weather that drove up the Channel in a black fog. Now, having gained shelter, they quickly lost the glow of endeavour, and mixed in pleasing stupor8 the humming of the storm in the tower above, its intermittent9 onslaughts on the leadwork of the southern windows, and the voice of Parson Babbage lifted now and again from the chancel as if to correct the shambling pace of the choir10 in the west gallery.
“Mark me,” whispered Old Zeb Minards, crowder and leader of the musicians, sitting back at the end of the Psalms11, and eyeing his fiddle12 dubiously13; “If Sternhold be sober this morning, Hopkins be drunk as a fly, or ’tis t’other way round.”
“’Twas middlin’ wambly,” assented14 Calvin Oke, the second fiddle—a screw-faced man tightly wound about the throat with a yellow kerchief.
“An’ ’tis a delicate matter to cuss the singers when the musicianers be twice as bad.”
“I’d a very present sense of being a bar or more behind the fair—that I can honestly vow,” put in Elias Sweetland, bending across from the left. Now Elias was a bachelor, and had blown the serpent from his youth up. He was a bald, thin man, with a high leathern stock, and shoulders that sloped remarkably15.
“Well, ‘taint a suent engine at the best, Elias—that o’ yourn,” said his affable leader, “nor to be lightly trusted among the proper psa’ms, ‘specially since Chris’mas three year, when we sat in the forefront of the gallery, an’ you dropped all but the mouthpiece overboard on to Aunt Belovely’s bonnet16 at ‘I was glad when they said unto me.’”
“Aye, poor soul. It shook her. Never the same woman from that hour, I do b’lieve. Though I’d as lief you didn’t mention it, friends, if I may say so; for ’twas a bitter portion.”
Elias patted his instrument sadly, and the three men looked up for a moment, as a scud17 of rain splashed on the window, drowning a sentence of the First Lesson.
“Well, well,” resumed Old Zeb, “we all have our random18 intervals19, and a drop o’ cider in the mouthpieces is no less than Pa’son looks for, Chris’mas mornin’s.”
“Trew, trew as proverbs.”
“Howsever, ’twas cruel bad, that last psa’m, I won’t gainsay20. As for that long-legged boy o’ mine, I keep silence, yea, even from hard words, considerin’ what’s to come. But ’tis given to flutes21 to make a noticeable sound, whether tunable23 or false.”
“Terrible shy he looks, poor chap!”
The three men turned and contemplated24 Young Zeb Minards, who sat on their left and fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing his legs.
“How be feelin’, my son?”
“Very whitely, father; very whitely, an’ yet very redly.”
Elias Sweetland, moved by sympathy, handed across a peppermint25 drop.
“Hee-hee!” now broke in an octogenarian treble, that seemed to come from high up in the head of Uncle Issy, the bass26-viol player; “But cast your eyes, good friends, ‘pon a little slip o’ heart’s delight down in the nave27, and mark the flowers ‘pon the bonnet nid-nodding like bees in a bell, with unspeakable thoughts.”
“’Tis the world’s way wi’ females.”
“I’ll wager28, though, she wouldn’t miss the importance of it—yea, not for much fine gold.”
“Well said, Uncle,” commented the crowder, a trifle more loudly as the wind rose to a howl outside: “Lord, how this round world do spin! Simme ’twas last week I sat as may be in the corner yonder (I sang bass then), an’ Pa’son Babbage by the desk statin’ forth29 my own banns, an’ me with my clean shirt collar limp as a flounder. As for your mother, Zeb, nuthin ‘ud do but she must dream o’ runnin’ water that Saturday night, an’ want to cry off at the church porch because ’twas unlucky. ‘Nothin’ shall injuce me, Zeb,’ says she, and inside the half hour there she was glintin’ fifty ways under her bonnet, to see how the rest o’ the maidens30 was takin’ it.”
“Hey,” murmured Elias, the bachelor; “but it must daunt31 a man to hear his name loudly coupled wi’ a woman’s before a congregation o’ folks.”
“’Tis very intimate,” assented Old Zeb. But here the First Lesson ended. There was a scraping of feet, then a clearing of throats, and the musicians plunged32 into “O, all ye works of the Lord.”
Young Zeb, amid the moaning of the storm outside the building and the scraping and zooming33 of the instruments, string and reed, around him, felt his head spin; but whether from the lozenge (that had suffered from the companionship of a twist of tobacco in Elias Sweetland’s pocket), or the dancing last night, or the turbulence34 of his present emotions, he could not determine. Year in and year out, grey morning or white, a gloom rested always on the singers’ gallery, cast by the tower upon the south side, that stood apart from the main building, connected only by the porch roof, as by an isthmus35. And upon eyes used to this comparative obscurity the nave produced the effect of a bright parterre of flowers, especially in those days when all the women wore scarlet36 cloaks, to scare the French if they should invade. Zeb’s gaze, amid the turmoil37 of sound, hovered38 around one such cloak, rested on a slim back resolutely39 turned to him, and a jealous bonnet, wandered to the bald scalp of Farmer Tresidder beside it, returned to Calvin Qke’s sawing elbow and the long neck of Elias Sweetland bulging40 with the fortissimo of “O ye winds of God,” then fluttered back to the red cloak.
These vagaries41 were arrested by three words from the mouth of Old Zeb, screwed sideways over his fiddle.
“Time—ye sawny!”
Young Zeb started, puffed43 out his cheeks, and blew a shriller note. During the rest of the canticle his eyes were glued to the score, and seemed on the point of leaving their sockets44 with the vigour45 of the performance.
“Sooner thee’st married the better for us, my son,” commented his father at the close; “else farewell to psa’mody!”
But Young Zeb did not reply. In fact, what remained of the peppermint lozenge had somehow jolted46 into his windpipe, and kept him occupied with the earlier symptoms of strangulation.
His facial contortions47, though of the liveliest, were unaccompanied by sound, and, therefore, unheeded. The crowder, with his eyes contemplatively fastened on the capital of a distant pillar, was pursuing a train of reflection upon Church music; and the others regarded the crowder.
“Now supposin’, friends, as I’d a-fashioned the wondrous48 words o’ the ditty we’ve just polished off; an’ supposin’ a friend o’ mine, same as Uncle Issy might he, had a-dropped in, in passin’, an’ heard me read the same. ‘Hullo!’ he’d ‘a said, ‘You’ve a-put the same words twice over.’ ‘How’s that?’ ‘How’s that? Why, here’s O ye Whales (pointin’ wi’ his finger), an’ lo! again, O ye Wells.’ ”T’aint the same,’ I’d ha’ said. ‘Well,’ says Uncle Issy, ”tis spoke49 so, anyways’—”
“Crowder, you puff42 me up,” murmured Uncle Issy, charmed with this imaginative and wholly flattering sketch50. “No—really now! Though, indeed, strange words have gone abroad before now, touching51 my wisdom; but I blow no trumpet52.”
“Such be your very words,” the crowder insisted. “Now mark my answer. ‘Uncle Issy,’ says I, quick as thought, ‘you dunderheaded old antic,— leave that to the musicianers. At the word ‘whales,’ let the music go snorty; an’ for wells, gliddery; an’ likewise in a moving dulcet53 manner for the holy an’ humble54 Men o’ heart.’ Why, ‘od rabbet us!—what’s wrong wi’ that boy?”
All turned to Young Zeb, from whose throat uncomfortable sounds were issuing. His eyes rolled piteously, and great tears ran down his cheeks.
“Slap en ‘pon the back, Calvin: he’s chuckin’.”
“Ay—an’ the pa’son at’ here endeth!’”
“Slap en, Calvin, quick! For ’tis clunk or stuffle, an’ no time to lose.”
Down in the nave a light rustle55 of expectancy56 was already running from pew to pew as Calvin Oke brought down his open palm with a whack57! knocking the sufferer out of his seat, and driving his nose smartly against the back-rail in front.
Then the voice of Parson Babbage was lifted: “I publish the Banns of marriage between Zebedee Minards, bachelor, and Ruby58 Tresidder, spinster, both of this parish. If any of you know cause, or just impediment, why these two persons—”
At this instant the church-door flew open, as if driven in by the wind that tore up the aisle59 in an icy current. All heads were turned. Parson Babbage broke off his sentence and looked also, keeping his forefinger60 on the fluttering page. On the threshold stood an excited, red-faced man, his long sandy beard blown straight out like a pennon, and his arms moving windmill fashion as he bawled62—
The men in the congregation leaped up. The women uttered muffled64 cries, groped for their husbands’ hats, and stood up also. The choir in the gallery craned forward, for the church-door was right beneath them. Parson Babbage held up his hand, and screamed out over the hubbub—
“Where’s she to?”
“Under Bradden Point, an’ comin’ full tilt65 for the Raney!”
“Then God forgive all poor sinners aboard!” spoke up a woman’s voice, in the moment’s silence that followed.
“Is that all you know, Gauger66 Hocken?”
“Iss, iss: can’t stop no longer—must be off to warn the Methodeys! ‘Stablished Church first, but fair play’s a jewel, say I.”
He rushed off inland towards High Lanes, where the meeting-house stood. Parson Babbage closed the book without finishing his sentence, and his audience scrambled67 out over the graves and forth upon the headland. The wind here came howling across the short grass, blowing the women’s skirts wide and straining their bonnet-strings, pressing the men’s trousers tight against their shins as they bent68 against it in the attitude of butting69 rams70 and scanned the coast-line to the sou’-west. Ruby Tresidder, on gaining the porch, saw Young Zeb tumble out of the stairway leading from the gallery and run by, stowing the pieces of his flute22 in his pocket as he went, without a glance at her. Like all the rest, he had clean forgotten the banns.
Now, Ruby was but nineteen, and had seen plenty of wrecks71, whereas these banns were to her an event of singular interest, for weeks anticipated with small thrills. Therefore, as the people passed her by, she felt suddenly out of tune72 with them, especially with Zeb, who, at least, might have understood her better. Some angry tears gathered in her eyes at the callous73 indifference74 of her father, who just now was revolving75 in the porch like a weathercock, and shouting orders east, west, north, and south for axes, hammers, ladders, cart-ropes, in case the vessel76 struck within reach.
“You, Jim Lewarne, run to the mowhay, hot-foot, an’ lend a hand wi’ the datchin’ ladder, an’—hi! stop!—fetch along my second-best glass, under the Dook o’ Cumberland’s picter i’ the parlour, ‘longside o’ last year’s neck; an’-hi! cuss the chap—he’s gone like a Torpointer! Ruby, my dear, step along an’ show en-Why, hello!—”
Ruby, with head down, and scarlet cloak blown out horizontally, was already fighting her way out along the headland to a point where Zeb stood, a little apart from the rest, with both palms shielding his eyes.
“Zeb!”
She had to stand on tip-toe and bawl61 this into his ear. He faced round with a start, nodded as if pleased, and bent his gaze on the Channel again.
Ruby looked too. Just below, under veils of driving spray, the seas were thundering past the headland into Ruan Cove77. She could not see them break, only their backs swelling78 and sinking, and the puffs79 of foam80 that shot up like white smoke at her feet and drenched81 her gown. Beyond, the sea, the sky, and the irregular coast with its fringe of surf melted into one uniform grey, with just the summit of Bradden Point, two miles away, standing82 out above the wrack83. Of the vessel there was, as yet, no sign.
In Ruby’s present mood the bitter blast was chiefly blameworthy for gnawing84 at her face, and the spray for spoiling her bonnet and taking her hair out of curl. She stamped her foot and screamed again—
“Zeb!”
“What is’t, my dear?” he bawled back in her ear, kissing her wet cheek in a preoccupied85 manner.
She was about to ask him what this wreck amounted to, that she should for the moment sink to nothing in comparison with it. But, at this instant, a small group of men and women joined them, and, catching86 sight of the faces of Sarah Ann Nanjulian and Modesty87 Prowse, her friends, she tried another tack—
“Well, Zeb, no doubt ’twas disappointing for you; but don’t ‘ee take on so. Think how much harder ’tis for the poor souls i’ that ship.”
This astute88 sentence, however, missed fire completely. Zeb answered it with a point-blank stare of bewilderment. The others took no notice of it whatever.
“Hav’ee seen her, Zeb?” called out his father.
“No.”
“Nor I nuther. ‘Reckon ’tis all over a’ready. I’ve a-heard afore now,” he went on, turning his back to the wind the better to wink89 at the company, “that ’tis lucky for some folks Gauger Hocken hain’t extra spry ‘pon his pins. But ’tis a gift that cuts both ways. Be any gone round by Cove Head to look out?”
“Iss, a dozen or more. I saw ’em ‘pon the road, a minute back, like emmets runnin’.”
“’Twas very nice feelin’, I must own—very nice indeed—of Gauger Hocken to warn the church-folk first; and him a man of no faith, as you may say. Hey? What’s that? Dost see her, Zeb?”
For Zeb, with his right hand pressing down his cap, now suddenly flung his left out in the direction of Bradden Point. Men and women craned forward.
Below the distant promontory90, a darker speck91 had started out of the medley92 of grey tones. In a moment it had doubled its size—had become a blur—then a shape. And at length, out of the leaden wrack, there emerged a small schooner93, with tall, raking masts, flying straight towards them.
“Dear God!” muttered some one, while Ruby dug her finger-tips into Zeb’s arm.
The schooner raced under bare poles, though a strip or two of canvas streamed out from her fore-yards. Yet she came with a rush like a greyhound’s, heeling over the whitened water, close under the cliffs, and closer with every instant. A man, standing on any one of the points she cleared so narrowly, might have tossed a pebble94 on to her deck.
“Hey, friends, but she’ll not weather Gaffer’s Rock. By crum! if she does, they may drive her in ‘pon the beach, yet!”
“What’s the use, i’ this sea? Besides, her steerin’ gear’s broke,” answered Zeb, without moving his eyes.
This Gaffer’s Rock was the extreme point of the opposite arm of the cove—a sharp tooth rising ten feet or more above high-water mark. As the little schooner came tearing abreast95 of it, a huge sea caught her broadside, and lifted as if to fling her high and dry. The men and women on the headland held their breath while she hung on its apex96. Then she toppled and plunged across the mouth of the cove, quivering. She must have shaved the point by a foot.
“The Raney! the Raney!” shouted young Zeb, shaking off Ruby’s clutch. “The Raney, or else—”
He did not finish his sentence, for the stress of the flying seconds choked down his words. Two possibilities they held, and each big with doom97. Either the schooner must dash upon the Raney—a reef, barely covered at high water, barring entrance to the cove—or avoiding this, must be shattered on the black wall of rock under their very feet. The end of the little vessel was written—all but one word: and that must be added within a short half-minute.
Ruby saw this: it was plain for a child to read. She saw the curded tide, now at half-flood, boiling around the Raney; she saw the little craft swoop98 down on it, half buried in the seas through which she was being impelled99; she saw distinctly one form, and one only, on the deck beside the helm—a form that flung up its hands as it shot by the smooth edge of the reef, a hand’s-breadth off destruction. The hands were still lifted as it passed under the ledge100 where she stood.
It seemed, as she stood there shivering, covering her eyes, an age before the crash came, and the cry of those human souls in their extremity101.
When at length she took her hands from her face the others were twenty yards away, and running fast.
收听单词发音 |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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psalms
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| n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 )；圣诗；圣歌；(中的) | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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scud
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| n.疾行；v.疾行 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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gainsay
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| v.否认，反驳 | |
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flutes
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| 长笛( flute的名词复数 )； 细长香槟杯（形似长笛） | |
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flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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tunable
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| adj.可调的；可调谐 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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peppermint
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| n.薄荷，薄荷油，薄荷糖 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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daunt
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| vt.使胆怯，使气馁 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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zooming
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| adj.快速上升的v.（飞机、汽车等）急速移动( zoom的过去分词 )；（价格、费用等）急升，猛涨 | |
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turbulence
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| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
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isthmus
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| n.地峡 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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dulcet
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| adj.悦耳的 | |
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54
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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bawl
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| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
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bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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63
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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65
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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gauger
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| n.收税官 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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butting
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| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
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rams
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| n.公羊( ram的名词复数 )；(R-)白羊（星）座；夯；攻城槌v.夯实（土等）( ram的第三人称单数 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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72
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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83
wrack
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| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
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gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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86
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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89
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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92
medley
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| n.混合 | |
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93
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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95
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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apex
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| n.顶点，最高点 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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98
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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99
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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101
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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